Proverbial Lines
by legogirleight
Summary: Just a little Jate fanfiction! Post The Hunting Party, season two.


My first LOST fanfiction!  
I wrote this post The Hunting Party. So it's all disc four season two and below, I haven't seen past that!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

=-#$(

"It was never _about _Ana Lucia, Kate!" He was shouting now.

"Just like it was never really about Sawyer, Jack." She knew he wouldn't believe her.

#()$

She had once drawn a proverbial line. It was clichéd and probably past ridiculous, but she always ended up with men like her father. And not Mr. Austen. She always ended up with men like _him._ The one she killed. Though she doesn't like to talk about it, she can admit it to herself. She killed him, her father, and she's not sorry. Contrary to popular belief back in the _real world _she isn't void of compassion. She isn't heartless and she certainly isn't cold. And thus, her proverbial line.

"Still sore from your fight with Jack, Freckles?" He had a way of sneaking up on her, making her jump. And though there was a warmth, there was _something_ more, she could tell sometimes, Sawyer fell clearly on one side of her line, so she smiled as he sat beside her in the sand.

"He should have just let me come." She couldn't stand men who wanted to protect her. As cliché as she recognized the whole falling for the father figure to be, it was girls who waited idly for their prince charming who really got to her.

"You've got that whole independent woman thing goin' on, I like that." Sawyer smirked at her crookedly. "But, you know, I always thought Jack would be your type."

"My type?" Kate's mood changed from annoyed to pleasantly amused in a matter of seconds. "And what exactly is my _type_?"

"I don't know, Freckles. He's the upstanding doctor, always saving everyone."

"Shut up, Sawyer."

"Always fixing all the problems. Even yours, Kate. Especially yours." Jack wasn't the only person who Sawyer just described.

"Shut up!"

"Aw Freckles, I'm sorry!" Sawyer laughed. "He'll forgive you, he always does."

"I said shut up!" Pushing off the sandy ground she stalked away.

"Geeze, I said I was sorry!" Sawyer called after her, but she didn't stop. He wouldn't come after her; men on his side of the line never did.

"Stupid Sawyer," She muttered, slowing her pace to walk along the water's edge. Looking across the vast emptiness, the blue water spanning seemingly forever, she let a tear fall down her cheek.

"_If you could bring three things to a deserted island, what would you bring?" _

"_That's a dumb question, Tom!" Kate laughed. _

"_Answer it Katie, that's the rules." He insisted, teasing her. _

"_You answer first." She countered, and he relented; he always did._

"_I'd bring… Clue, 'cause I'd get bored and it's the best game ever! And I'd bring… a year's supply of Kraft Dinner, too."_

"_That's only two things." Kate reminded him._

"_And you, Katie, I'd bring you." He smiled at her, "I wouldn't want to be away from you." She giggled, and blushed as he pressed a shy kiss to her lips…_

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She screamed, far enough away from camp to be confident that no one would hear her. "I'm sorry." She was in knee deep now, the tears flowing unabashedly. "Tom, I'm sorry." As sobs began to wrack her body, she felt a pair of strong arms take hold of her from behind.

"Shh, Kate, what's wrong?"

"I just… can't…"

"Deep breaths. Let's get you out of the water before the storm comes." She followed him, allowed him to help her out of the water. She didn't even cringe when the sand stuck to her everywhere as they collapsed on the beach.

"You weren't the only one not allowed to go today, you know."

"You weren't there."

"Someone could have come and got me, I would have gone."

"Sayid,"

"Forget about it. Why were you in the ocean crying?"

"I didn't think anyone was around."

"Locke told me what happened, Kate. You shouldn't be wandering off alone."

"I don't need to be babysat."

"I'm not saying you do, I'm just suggesting that we travel in pairs."

"And where's your pair?" He pursed his lips at this.

"She's dead."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think…"

"We've all lost someone at some point, haven't we Kate?" She stared again, out in the blue abyss, the moon flickering across the waves, before answering.

"Yes we have."

"What happened, Kate?"

"I don't… I can't," And she was off again, pushing up from the sand more violently now. He caught her hand as she took off.

"Just don't go too far, okay?"

"I'll be fine, Sayid." Was all she offered him as she took off running. Once he was no longer able to see her she took off her shirt as she ran, then her pants. The sand was everywhere, infiltrating her comfort zone, driving her crazy. She carried them with her, still rational enough to realize the importance of not wasting a set of clothing. She was brought to a halt quickly as she saw him. Them. Mango by the firelight. She suddenly felt a rush of déjà vu, the picture of the refrigerator as they waited in his kitchen. The day that she… the night that she…

"What are you doing here?" It was the new girl, the one who shot Shannon. Ana Lucia.

"I'm just… running."

"Well I think," Ana Lucia looked back and forth from Kate, to Jack, to Kate, "I think I'm going to get some wood." And Jack sat alone by the small fire, fighting the urge to apologize as if he was caught doing something wrong.

"What happened to your clothes, Kate?"

"The sand."

"Right." Jack prodded at the fire with a stick now, desperate to keep his attention anywhere but on Kate.

"So is she your girlfriend or something?" Jack was silent, floored by the brashness of her question, for a moment before he spoke,

"Are you sleeping with Sawyer?" She set her jaw.

"You think I'm sleeping with _Sawyer?_"

"He said he loved you, Kate." That was news to her.

"And so I must have slept with him. There's no other way he could be in love with me."

"I didn't mean that, Kate. You know what I meant."

"No Jack, I don't know what you meant. Because you never tell me what you're thinking, what's going on inside that head of yours!"

"Because you're so forthcoming."

"If I'm sleeping with Sawyer, what were you doing out here alone with Ana Lucia? Ana Lucia who doesn't stay at our camp, Jack. She doesn't stay at our camp because she _killed Shannon_!"

"Well she saved Sawyer." Jack spat in response.

"Echo saved Sawyer, Jack. Ana Lucia would have let him die." Jack was silent, still again. Kate, over the course of their argument, had moved directly in front of him. Apparently she forgot she was hardly wearing any clothes. "So why are you here Jack, why are you here with her?"

"I don't know." He whispered.

"Yes you do, Jack, you know." She leaned in as he swallowed.

"I don't _know,_ Kate." He spoke louder this time.

"I think you do."

"It was never _about _Ana Lucia, Kate!" He was shouting now.

"Just like it was never really about Sawyer, Jack." She knew he wouldn't believe her, but she couldn't help but try. "It was never really about Sawyer."

"Then who, Kate? Who was it about?"

"You, Jack. It was about you."

"You kissed Sawyer."

"In exchange for Shannon's medication. You left that part out." She sat next to him now, in the sand again, her clothes discarded on the other side of the fire. The sand didn't bother her so much now that she was dry, or maybe it was because Jack was there. Nothing seemed to bother her as much when Jack was around. Except Jack, that is.

"Minor detail." Jack smiled just a little, and Kate rolled her eyes. They were back to this point, this point they always came to and never past.

"I kissed you too, you know."

"I think I remember something about that," He feigned confusion and she hit him lightly on the arm.

"And there was nothing for me to gain there."

"Nope."

"So there."

"I just have one question Kate." Sawyer never asked permission to ask questions; he demanded answers.

"Shoot."

"Why _Sawyer_? Why spend all your time with him? Why not Sayid, or Charlie?" Why not me?

"I have this line." She took a deep breath.

"A line?"

"This proverbial line."

"Right."

"And I drew it for a reason, Jack. Sometimes it's hard to walk on the side I don't want to, but it's what I deserve."

"What you deserve? Kate, you're not making any sense. I don't know what you're talking about or why you drew a line, but if you haven't noticed, we're stuck on a deserted island. Indefinitely. We can pretty much forget anything we knew before, anything we were before. I erased all my lines."

"You had lines too?"

"My wife… my ex-wife, told me once that I would always need something to fix. Someone to fix, is what she meant. That was the night she left me. And I fought for her back, I did. I fought hard and I lost. Because she was right. I always need someone to fix."

"I…" Kate didn't speak of it. Ever. She had turned down opportunity after opportunity to confess. To try to make someone understand why she did what she did. To make someone understand how sorry she is. "I just can't cross the line, Jack."

"Kate." Jack breathed quietly, turning finally to face her. And as she looked at him with tears in her eyes he finally understood that they were in the same boat. Wanting something they wouldn't allow themselves to have.

"Sarah, my ex wife, it was a miracle that I fixed her. But I did, I did it. And it was perfect. I could help her recover, through the treatment … but then she got better. She got better and she didn't need me anymore. There was someone else to help, someone else to save, to fix at the hospital, on my table. So I didn't come home from work, I didn't eat, I didn't sleep. I just worked. I saved. And she left me."

"You couldn't fix me Jack, I promise." Kate smiled.

"Is that a challenge?" He asked, looking at her through dark eyelashes as the distance between them quickly closed. She felt herself relax as his lips met hers, his tongue quickly demanding entrance through her lips until it was tangled with hers. As his warm hand slid around her back, teasing the strap holding her bra together, she was reminded of how little clothing she was wearing, suddenly shivering. Yet quickly she forgot, as his hands began to warm her up, the heat spreading rapidly through her body; a feeling she'd missed for a long time. And so she closed her eyes and took her first, timid step across a line she'd drawn so long ago.

Kate had never been a fan of irony. But here she was, on the deserted island. She didn't have Clue, she didn't have Kraft Dinner, and she didn't have Tom. But she did have Jack. And as his thumb brushed over the back of her hand, his lips pressing softly into her hair, she whispered, "I'll be the death of you, Jack."

That's what happens to Kate when she crosses proverbial lines.


End file.
